


poetry of the dead

by knightswatch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, First Time, Getting Together, Horror, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Original Character(s), Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5744206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They get separated, he and Shigeru from Kunimi and Kindaichi. It's probably the third shelter that they find themselves in, this one military-run with far too many people crowding inside of it. Kentarou hated every second they spent there—never liked crowds to begin with. The demand of housing all those people meant that it grew too big to really protect.</p>
<p>Things go to shit once again, which leaves just him and Shigeru and the empty streets of Sendai, trying to figure things out. Shigeru scuffs one of his shoes against the pavement, reclining against the wooden bench with a sigh. It can't be comfortable, seeing as he has that stupid sniper rifle hanging off his back. He talked some soldier into teaching him how to shoot it, and then promptly stole it when they left days later though Kentarou doubts the guy is alive now to miss it.</p>
<p>(The zombie apocalypse, told in four parts.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the weight of living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part one, written by WordsandJank

Kyoutani Kentarou had never seen someone die before.

His mother died when he was younger, but he hadn't been there to actually _see_ it. He'd been in a hospital waiting room, arms curled around his knees, waiting for news from the operating room she was in.

At the time, he thought he would have given anything to bring her back. It seems like a foolish, horrible wish now.

Kentarou has seen too many people die now.

Now he carries a bat picked up from the first shelter he and Shigeru were shunted to. It was a shitty little operation in one of the gyms of their university, mostly just the campus security personal and the maintenance staff passing out makeshift weapons to as many students as they could. It was a stroke of luck, at the time, that the gym had been connected to one of the athletic supply rooms.

The whole thing went to shit within two days, Kentarou wasn't surprised. 

He's going to need to find a replacement for the bat soon. It's metal, which is probably why it's lasted as long as it has, but the dents in the metal are starting to become more and more obvious, and the last thing he wants is for it to break when he still needs it.

Strangely, it seems like the worst part of the whole world falling apart wasn't watching people die. Now, that seems like a cold fact of life. People die and for the most part, Kentarou can't stop it. It's become a cold and unflinching fact of reality.

No, the thing that bothers him most is not having a _purpose_. There's nothing to work towards, at first—just survival, not letting any of his makeshift group get turned or picked off by crazy ass raiders who've taken the chance to shed their humanity as well, or people pushed to desperation looking to steal and kill their way out of the end of the world.

The purpose he finds again isn't the one he wants. 

They get separated, he and Shigeru from Kunimi and Kindaichi. It's probably the third shelter that they find themselves in, this one military-run with far too many people crowding inside of it. Kentarou hated every second they spent there—never liked crowds to begin with. The demand of housing all those people meant that it grew too big to really protect.

Things go to shit once again, which leaves just him and Shigeru and the empty streets of Sendai, trying to figure things out. Shigeru scuffs one of his shoes against the pavement, reclining against the wooden bench with a sigh. It can't be comfortable, seeing as he has that stupid sniper rifle hanging off his back. He talked some soldier into teaching him how to shoot it, and then promptly stole it when they left days later though Kentarou doubts the guy is alive now to miss it.

“Where are we gonna sleep?” His voice is a drawl like he's tired of asking the same questions every night. Kentarou shrugs, dropping to sit next to him, leaning the bat against the bench and sighing. It's been a quiet few days, at least comparatively, and he's pretty sure there's a convenience store not far away that might have some food left for them to pick through.

Doesn't exactly solve the question of sleeping—Kentarou doesn't usually plan that far ahead. Shigeru leans to the side when he sits, resting his head against Kentarou's shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against the soft flannel sleeve of his shirt. “We could try and find another shelter.”

“Probably,” he nods, glancing down at the top of Shigeru's head and rolling his eyes a little. It'll be more of the same, he figures, with a lot of chaos and panicked people and not enough space. Safer, but only for a moment. He tangles his fingers with Shigeru after a moment, humming in the back of his throat. “You think it'll be easier to find them that way?”

He's not really smart enough to figure this shit out on his own. He knows he _wants_ to find Kindaichi and Kunimi again, even if he doesn't admit to being worried when Shigeru smirks at him. It would be stupid not to be. They're only a year younger, and they make a capable enough team, but it's not easy to let go of the way concern nags in the back of his mind. 

“Maybe,” Shigeru responds after a moment, his thumb running again and again over the backs of Kentarou's knuckles, thoughtful. “It's hard to say what they might do. Kunimi-kun isn't the most trusting young man.”

His voice is wry when he says it, and Kentarou chuckles softly, leaning his cheek against the top of Shigeru's head with a nod. Shigeru shifts slightly, only to lean more of his weight against Kentarou's side. Quiet moments like this are few and far between, and it feels like it's been weeks since they've actually just been able to sit for a moment and crack jokes.

So, of course, it can't last. There are footsteps down the street from them—not dragging shuffles, but even and measured, and getting quicker. Kentarou lifts his head, rolling his shoulder so Shigeru does the same. His hand instantly goes for the bat next to his knee, though he's more reluctant to let go of Shigeru's hand. The office building behind them still has a door, though Kentarou doubts it's actually locked.

He gives Shigeru's hand a little tug instead, both of them standing and moving closer to the door of the building. It's set into a small alcove, so they press against the wall instead, peeking around the edge of the bricks to see the person coming around the corner. The footsteps pick up into a run as they round the corner, and Kentarou leans himself closer, the center of his chest pressing Shigeru's shoulder, still clinging onto his hand.

It's a teenager—a young girl who stops in the middle of the street and puts her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. She doesn't look like someone who's being chased, at least, she doesn't look over her shoulder like she expects danger to come roaring out after her, but when she lifts her head there's panic in her eyes.

Shigeru shifts, and for a second Kentarou thinks it's discomfort, but then he sees the set of his eyebrows, the slight downturn of his mouth. He squeezes tighter, enough that it feels a little desperate, shaking his head quickly. “No.”

“Ken…” He glances back at the girl, keeping his voice pitched in a whisper. Her head is whipping around as she starts walking, searching for someone around it seems like. He squeezes back, quick and tight. “She needs help.”

“Or she's looking for a sucker to rob,” Kentarou hisses in return, his jaw clenching tighter. He doesn't need Shigeru's bleeding heart to surface again right now. He wants to enjoy the one moment they have _without_ trouble, not go charging into a trap, or worse.

He presses his shoulder down harder—not enough to pin Shigeru in place, just with the hope that he'll stop and think before he does something stupid. 

He knows Shigeru though, and after a moment of thought, he pushes away from the wall and does something stupid anyway. He breaks off at a jog, dropping Kentarou's hand before he can try any harder to stop him. The girl wheels around as soon as she hears his footsteps and Kentarou half expects her to whip out a knife. She doesn't, instead, she stumbles toward him and winds up grabbing his arm to support herself, speaking quickly.

Shigeru doesn't glance back at him, which Kentarou isn't surprised by. He'll stay in hiding until he gets a signal, or there's trouble that he needs to come in and beat up with a bat. The first time he had to step in and swing it at another human, he'd hesitated, and now he has a nasty set of knife scars on his right side to show for it. 

It's worse, though, being able to crack someones ribs in a single swing and not feeling anything but relief over it. Much, much worse.

Shigeru listens to her talk with an intense frown on his face, nodding along. He makes an 'okay' sign behind his back and Kentarou steps out from hiding with a little sigh, rubbing the back of his neck and leaning the bat on his shoulder. The girl jolts, releasing Shigeru's arm and staring at him.

He probably looks like a mess, more so than Shigeru, with his hair still buzzed but once again all black, all scowls and deep set eyes. Right now, though, he doesn't mind looking intimidating. Shigeru's hair has grown out longer, but in a way that mostly looks cute. It curls a little now, in the back and at the ends. He still looks soft, with warm eyes and a kind face. He still looks like someone that can be trusted.

Shigeru looks over his shoulder, not surprised in the least, sighing. “Her friends got pinned down inside a building—she was out getting supplies and came back to a bunch of them trying to beat down the door.”

“Nice story,” He grunts, resisting the urge to put his hand on the small of Shigeru's back. He'll end up going to help, of course, because Shigeru won't stop if he doesn't, and even if this is a stupid idea that'll endanger them both, he's sticking with Shigeru until the end anyway. “How far?”

“T- three blocks,” she stumbles over the words, still staring at Kentarou and fidgeting with her fingers. Shigeru nods his head, answering for the both of them.

“Lead the way.”

 

The building she shows them to is a modern looking high rise, probably full of nice offices, with glass windows all along the front. The reception area is empty, it looks like, with a makeshift barricade of desks and chairs holding the doors closed. There's five beating on the glass with the bunt of their fists, jaws working around empty air, rotting in the late afternoon sun. 

Kentarou wrinkles his nose, tapping Shigeru's wrist to stop him from reaching for the gun on his back, shaking his head. “Too loud.”

Shigeru frowns in return, dropping his hand and shaking his head in Kentarou's direction, teeth digging slightly into his lower lip. “You're gonna need help with that many.”

He rolls his eyes, rolling his shoulders and taking a deep, slow breath to steady himself, nodding his head to the side. Shigeru sighs softly, tugging the girl by the shoulder and ducking behind a car parked and left abandoned a little over ten feet away.

It makes Shigeru nervous, he knows, handling things like this. But, even if he thinks the sniper rifle itself is a stupid weapon, he far and away prefers knowing Shigeru has his back from a safe distance than being right next to him in an actual fight against anything.

The idea of it alone makes his stomach shudder with nerves, and Kentarou is aware that maybe he's given himself too much to protect. He doesn't know, really, what he would be doing _without_ Shigeru.

Well, _dead_ is the obvious thing. Dead because when the first people got bit and turned on them looking for a snack, Kentarou had frozen up completely. It was too much to take in all at once, especially for someone who had always had much more physical fortitude than mental. 

He stoops over, grabbing what looks to be a stray chunk of asphalt from a hole in the street, reeling his arm back and throwing it down the street as hard as he can. It sails past the zombies battering at the door, clattering on the ground as it lands and skids. Two of them look up, shuffling blindly to the source of the noise, and Kentarou nods slightly to himself. He was hoping it would generate a little more interest, but it isn't more than he can handle.

Not very gifted with stealth still, his footfalls are heavy as he stoops down and jogs the remaining distance across the street, and before he steps onto the sidewalk one of the zombies turns and stares at him, groaning, eyes vacant. It shuffles away from the door, arms limp at its sides, teeth clacking together.

It's one of the sounds that Kentarou hears in his dreams, the dry click of jawbones, chewing on air, always so _hungry_. 

The zombie was a girl, at one point, though he's found it easier to stop thinking of them as the people they used to be. They're monsters now—no memories of the lives they used to had, no sense of how they used to be _people_.

It's easier to kill a monster than it is to kill a person. Kentarou has experience with both.

He swings as soon as she's within reach of the bat, and the impact of the steel against her skull is solid, vibrating up Kentarou's arms. He's glad that he started out used to the feeling, otherwise he's sure hitting this hard would make him drop the bat to begin with. The zombie staggers, hitting the pavement with a dry wail and Kentarou leans over, jabbing the bat downward into her forehead with enough force that it cracks straight through.

The sucking sound it makes when he pulls the bat out makes his stomach turn slightly and he adjusts his grip. The two that were still at the door are shuffling toward him more urgently now, and the ones further down the street have turned back at the sound of the scuffle. 

It's not that time slows down when he fights, but the fact that he relies more on instinct than thought. Thinking your way through a fight is slow, Kentarou simply shifts his weight backward again and swings. The strike catches the next zombie in the center of the ribs, something that's much more effective when a human is coming at him with a knife, but it still makes the zombie stumble and crash into the one next to him, slower than before.

He shuffles a step backward before swinging again, careful to stay out of the reach of grasping arms extended toward him. Low this time, at the knees, and the bone crunches as it gives. The zombie crashes to the ground, using the leg he can still move to claw his way forward instead. This leaves just one threat, the shortest of the three, and Kentarou lifts his arms high before bringing the bat down on the top of her head instead of swinging diagonally.

She drops like a puppet with the strings cut. Kentarou isn't enough of a risk taker to leave her like that, though, and he swings down on her head again, shutting his eyes. He's got a strong stomach, but crushing skulls is gross no matter who you are. The third, the one with the now broken leg, is quick to finish off when he can't do anything but reach for Kentarou's ankle in desperate hunger.

Kentarou lifts his head when he's done, shaking gore off the end of the bat, trying to gauge the distance between himself and the last two zombies.

He isn't left to figure it out. There's two rending cracks in the air, gunshots—close by, and both of them drop to the street. He almost _groans_ , turning to where he left Shigeru. There's no way he was panicked enough by any of that to start shooting, and instead, it's the girl, standing with a pistol in her trembling fingers. Shigeru moves before Kentarou, shoving her across the street toward the building, groaning in frustration at the barricade.

“Door. We need to get inside.” He barks, and she points down an alleyway before Shigeru wrestles the gun out of her hands, shaking his head. There's a tiny, evaluating flick of his eyes over Kentarou, double checking he wasn't hurt, before the three of them tumble in the back door of the office building. 

He wants to put his hands on either side of Shigeru's face and lean their foreheads together, to prove he's just fine, but he's sure as hell not doing that where a bunch of strangers can see them. Around anyone the both of them _don't_ trust, there's nothing romantic about their relationship. Desperate people are always looking for the things they can take away from you, and Kentarou isn't about to make _that_ any easier.

“Are you stupid?” He sighs when they get inside, wiping the bat on the plush carpeting under his feet. She stares at him, mouth slightly open like she was expecting to be _thanked_. He shakes his head, frowning harder. “I didn't need any help, and shooting when you don't have to is just going to bring more of them here.”

“I—I thought—” she stumbles, looking between Kentarou and Shigeru, eyes wide. “I'm sorry! I wanted to help.”

Shigeru shakes his head, giving Kentarou's shoulder a small pat to calm him down. “We'll have to wait the night out here.”

Kentarou grunts softly under his breath, inching a step closer to Shigeru at the sound of steps tumbling down steps. The two men who walk in are tall, both broad through the shoulders, with features that mark them as brothers or some other kind of related.

One of them smiles, wrapping his arms around the girl and pulling her into a tight hug, while the other stops to glare at Kentarou (of course. They never glare at Shigeru. It's always him.) He eases after a moment of Kentarou glaring straight back, bat in hand, arms crossed over his chest. The smiley one lets go of the girl, giving them a quick bow of his head and a grin that makes his cheeks dimple. “Thank you for helping Mura-chan out.”

“Sure,” Shigeru responds easily, bobbing his head in return. Shigeru doesn't elbow him to do the same, which is good because he's not feeling very polite after all of this. Shigeru hesitates a beat, his fingers curling and releasing twice, before fixing a smile to his face. “Yahaba. My friend here is Kyoutani.”

Kentarou inclines his head just slightly, more an acknowledgment of his name than anything else. The brothers (twins, he's pretty sure, though not identical), glance at one another before the happier one takes over. “I'm Jiro, my brother is Hiroki.” He pauses, patting Hiroki once on the shoulder. “We really do appreciate the help.”

He can sense the 'but we can't offer you anything' tacked on and waves his hand with a little sigh. “We just need to hide out until morning.”

“You can stay down here, then,” Hiroki snorts, flexing his fists like he thinks he's going to somehow scare Kentarou by being tall. It's clear he's the one meant to be intimidated since Hiroki hasn't bothered to really look at Shigeru once. “We have other people upstairs, you understand.”

“Of course,” Shigeru cuts in before Kentarou can say something foul-mouthed (it was on the tip of his tongue already), he folds his hands behind his back, smile plastic and polite. “We don't have any problem eating down here.”

His sly bartering doesn't exactly seem to be appreciated, until Maura nods her head and slides the backpack off her back, unzipping it and holding it up with one hand, digging inside until she pulls out a few packages of jerky and a can of some kind of beans, holding them out with a smile. “We have fresh water here, too.”

Well, they've certainly eaten worse. Shigeru takes the food with a smile, one that obviously only frustrates Hiroki further. His twin doesn't seem as bothered, rubbing the back of his neck and nodding through the doorway. “There's an office on this floor away from the windows. You can stay in there.”

“Thanks,” Kentarou grunts, brushing the tips of his fingers on Shigeru's arm as he weaves his way between them, ignoring how Hiroki angles himself like he's hoping Kentarou is going to slam into his shoulder. He's gotten better about not picking pointless fights, at least, and being locked in a building with these people overnight is plenty of reason to keep his head cool.

He elbows the door to the office shut once they're both inside, sighing and dropping to the floor, glad for the carpet at least. The desk is gone, making the room mostly empty and dark. Shigeru sits down next to him with a soft chuckle, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door before running his fingers softly through Kentarou's hair.

Kentarou catches his wrist, pressing a small kiss to the calloused palm of his hand, lips twitching up into a small smile, feeling his pulse thudding steady and strong under his skin. “I'm fine.”

“You could stand to be a little nicer,” his voice is teasing and Kentarou shrugs, still holding onto his wrist lightly. He presses another kiss to the inside of it before letting go, rolling his head to the side to lean it against Shigeru's leg.

“No point to that. They owe us,” he doesn't like sleeping in strange places, and even less doing it with strange people. There's as much chance of them being a weird cult of cannibals as there is of them being perfectly nice survivors with a good hideout. It's a gamble, and Kentarou knows he won't sleep very much.

Still, it isn't like they have many options now. Shigeru goes back to stroking his hair, a slight furrow in his brow, and Kentarou can read all of the same worries on his face. 

“I think it's okay,” he says after a moment, voice still soothing. “They don't trust us much either.”

“You think that's a good sign?” He raises an eyebrow, leaning into the soft touch of Shigeru's fingers. He's willing to trust Shigeru's intuition—Kentarou looks less to read people for these kinds of things, instead always for the most immediate threat.

“I think so. A cult of murderous cannibals would be trying to get _us_ to trust _them_.” Kentarou shrugs his backpack off, making a small, irritated sound when Shigeru stops petting his hair. Shigeru smiles, just a little, and rolls his eyes, unwrapping a stick of beef jerky and sticking the rest in the bag. His rifle is laying a few feet away, shrugged off when he sat down, apparently. 

“Hey,” his voice softens further and Kentarou blinks up at him, tilting his head slightly. “Why don't you get some sleep now? We'll do shifts.”

Kentarou wrinkles his nose slightly but nods after a moment. He's glad, at least, that he's never been very picky about sleeping. Shigeru jokes still that he can fall asleep anywhere, and he isn't far off the mark. They aren't quite touching when he shuts his eyes, though usually even if he can't wrap his arms around Shigeru to go to sleep he winds up holding onto his hand or the back of his shirt just to make sure he's still there.

 

He wakes up with a start, not sure how much time has passed, reaching his arm out to the side and grunting when he doesn't find Shigeru next to him. The small office lighter than he expects, thanks to a street lamp right outside the one small window, that shines in and lights the whole room up in soft white.

Kentarou sits up, scrubbing his arm over his eyes and looking around. His backpack and bat are still there, a few feet away from Shigeru's rifle, but Shigeru himself is gone. That alone makes Kentarou's heart climb into his throat and he shuffles quickly to his feet, gripping the bat already. It's not as if the room has anything that Shigeru could be hiding behind, and it seems unlikely that he woke up just in time for a bathroom break.

Tensed, he nudges the door slightly open. The whole room is lit up from the lights outside, and the fact that they're in one of the parts of the city that still has power is surprising on its own. This isn't an official shelter, he knows, the closest one is on Block 14. His estimation puts them somewhere between 13 and 15 on a side street though he's been wildly wrong before. To his surprise, there're no zombies at the windows banging and trying to get in, and the street seems quiet except for the corpses left behind from before. 

Something cold crawls down Kentarou's spine and he whips his head around, voice hissing out his teeth in the dark. “Shigeru?”

No answer.

He creeps his way toward the stairs, stomach sinking lower with each step. He hasn't had to deal with this before—there hasn't been anything yet that's made him worry about the two of them being separated. Even in the panic that split the two of them apart from Kunimi and Kindaichi, the first thing he did was find Shigeru and refuse to let go of him.

Besides, it's not like someone could have grabbed him without Kentarou noticing, or with the bat laying right there between them. It may not have been Shigeru's weapon of choice, but it certainly wasn't one that was hard to use. Rifle and backpack left behind means it probably wasn't a scuffle for any of their supplies (not that they have much, really.) He stops short when he hears voices from the area of the stairs.

“—That's a very generous offer,” Shigeru's voice is gentle, polite, that kind of formality he used when talking to referees at tournaments. “But we have a pair of friends that we need to find first…”

“It's not an offer for four people,” Hiroki, if Kentarou had to guess. The twins have similar voices, but this one sounds grumpier overall, sharper. “It's not an offer for two, even.”

“What?” Shigeru's voice drops the formality fast.

“Well, it's obvious you have a lot of skill, Yahaba-san, with a weapon like that, and that's what we need.”

“What we don't need is a brute swinging a baseball bat,” Hiroki cuts in to finish Jiro's thought, and Kentarou can _hear_ the angry click of Shigeru's teeth. “What you did for Mura-chan was a huge help, and we'd like it if you stayed here—there's plenty of food and space.”

“But without Kyoutani.” It's not a question. Part of Kentarou's mind is screaming with cruel laughter. Like it was a forgone conclusion that Shigeru would leave him behind someday, but he keeps talking, drowning the voice out. “You know he's the one who helped your friend.”

“He took a stupid risk. There's no reason to go swinging wild at a whole group like that, especially when you have a _rifle_ that means you don't even need to be on the street with them,” Hiroki snorts, and Jiro clears his throat softly, starting again in a softer voice.

“It's obvious you two have been together for awhile, but, those kinds of tactics are how people end up getting bitten—we need someone reliable, not someone we're going to have to put down in the end.”

“No,” the word is tight, spat out of Shigeru's mouth. “If you change your mind, I'll consider it, but I'm not doing anything without him.”

“So you're willing to be the one that puts him down like a dog before he turns?” There's a laugh attached to the words and Kentarou has to draw in a deep breath to calm his own temper.

“That's not going to happen,” Shigeru's voice wavers, less angry and more afraid. “He has me, and I'm not going to let it.”

“I hope it works out that way,” Jiro sounds sad for both of them and Shigeru snorts. Kentarou peels away from the wall, making his way back to the small office and laying down again, running his fingers through his hair.

Shigeru is barely two minutes behind him and he sits as soon as the door clicks shut. Kentarou opens his mouth to say something, signal that he's awake, and he's cut off by the sound of Shigeru pulling in a dry, shuddering breath, burying his face in his hands, eyes squeezed shut.

He sits up quietly, shuffling over and wrapping his arm around Shigeru's shoulders, rolling his eyes at the surprised little jolt of them. Shigeru leans into his chest easily, still squeezing his eyes shut, pulling in another shaking breath, fisting both hands in Kentarou's shirt, clinging him there. Kentarou hums quietly under his breath, half-remembered bits of some song or another, coaxing Shigeru to sleep once his breathing evens out.

He doesn't ask about _why_ , and they sneak out the back door before the sun is up all the way, Shigeru clinging their hands together as soon as they get outside.

 

There're two sets of dog tags in the bottom of Kentarou's backpack, from the military shelter they stayed it. There's barely any information on them, really just their names and birthdays, and the words “clear of infection”. 

They spend days sleeping out in abandoned buildings, especially anyplace where they can find food or clean water. It only involves picking off the straggling zombies that they run into—they're quick and quiet enough with just the two of them to avoid any groups that they run into, but it's aimless, and Kentarou itches for a focus, restless on the inside.

Mostly, when they run into groups of zombies, there's a way around them that'll still get them to the same place in the end, but, they've come to the point where to get showers and wash the few bits of extra clothing they both still have, they have to go to a shelter.

So, of course, there're six or seven zombies wandering the street in a shuffling herd, directly in their way. Kentarou shifts his hands around the handle of the bat, blinking at Shigeru's face when it goes a little pale, sighing. “We gotta go through them.”

“I know,” his voice sounds choked, and Kentarou lifts a hand to touch his cheek gently, raising an eyebrow.

“We've done this before—it'll be fine, alright?” He's not good at being reassuring, but Shigeru nods his head, sliding the rifle off his back and looking around at the buildings looming over the street. There's one, just across, with broken windows lining the fifth floor, and Shigeru nods at it.

“Let me get over there before you move.” He waits until Kentarou nods, leaning in and kissing him. It's quick and fleeting, barely a taste, before he turns and jogs across to the building, sliding himself in the door and vanishing from sight.

These moments are the ones that make Kentarou the tensest, crouching in the alleyway and gripping the bat tightly, waiting for Shigeru to reappear. It's two minutes that seems to take forever before the muzzle of his rifle pokes out the window.

Before Kentarou even hits the street he fires two quick shots, muffled by distance, sending two of them to the ground, still twitching and groaning but unable to move. They start to shuffle in the direction of the building, and Kentarou loops himself around to the back of the group, taking the two already disabled zombies out with quick swings of the bat. 

The two of them are most efficient like this, with Shigeru able to take his time and _think_ , and Kentarou knowing he doesn't have to. It works, until Kentarou's swing knocks over what he thinks is the last one and he feels a hand on his shoulder.

Instinct is the first thing to kick in and he leaps away like a startled cat before it can get a good grip, wheeling on his heel and bringing the bat up to grip the other end with his hand, blocking the next grab the zombie makes for him. It's far too close for comfort, leaning forward and biting into the steel like it's part of Kentarou's arm, teeth clicking around the metal in a way that makes him shudder.

He tries to grip tighter onto the bat, use the leverage to shove the zombie back, but his fingers slip on the end already wet with blood and he stumbles instead, almost losing his footing, ending up knocked to the pavement with the next shove, pulling the zombie with him.

It stops chewing on the bat, leaning forward further instead, teeth snapping centimeters from his shoulder. Kentarou grits his teeth, tries to remember how to breathe, wiggling a leg free and kicking the zombie to the side as best he can, rolling his body the other way. It works well enough to give him space to release the bat and swing it, though it's weaker than usual, not enough space to pull his arms back all the way.

He lurches up to his feet before the zombie can manage to do the same, swinging the bat down on its head as hard as he can, trying to ignore the trembling of his arms. There are no more shots from above him, and his head whips around to check the street before looking up in the window.

No Shigeru.

His insides lurch until he drops his eyes to the street again, Shigeru already sprinting down the sidewalk toward him, rifle haphazard on his back, eyes wide. “Ken!”

Kentarou sighs, muffling a groan when Shigeru crashes into him, clinging tightly and shutting his eyes. Kentarou leans their foreheads together, rubbing his hand up and down Shigeru's back slowly. “I'm fine.”

He repeats it, softly, over and over again, like he's making a promise to both of them. There's little shivers going down Shigeru's spine that he can feel, and he keeps rubbing his back slowly until they stop. Shigeru swallows, hands resting on either side of his face, shaking his head with a trembling smile. “You know I can't lose you.”

He thinks about the same thing. He thinks about the dog tags at the bottom of the bag and the fact that they have no idea if their friends are even alive.

He acts on instinct.

“Marry me.”


	2. as sure as the sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part two, written by shions_heart
> 
> (here there be smut. to bypass it, stop at "They break apart to breathe," and skip to "Slowly, he draws back,")

Akira hasn’t slept in three days.

It’s not because he doesn’t _want_ to, but the thought of falling asleep when at any moment a horde or raiders could pass by gets him on edge. Kindaichi has the ability to sleep anywhere, so at least Akira doesn’t have to worry about both of them dying from lack of appropriate rest.

He sighs, leaning his head back against the wall of the gas station he and Kindaichi are currently holed up in. Kindaichi’s laid out beside him, using his jacket as a pillow. Akira has to resist the urge to run his fingers through his hair. It looks soft and fluffy, no longer spiked up by gel as Kindaichi forgot to grab some on their rush out of the compound.

Akira grimaces, remembering that day. He shifts in his seat, clutching the switchblade at his side tightly. It’s not their only weapon. Kindaichi has a shovel that’s proved quite effective in bashing zombie brains, and Akira uses a length of rebar for beating back the undead.

For live humans, however, he uses the knife.

Thankfully they haven’t run into many, and those that they do pass give them a wide berth, distrust and exhaustion in their eyes. Akira doesn’t blame them for those looks. He’s sure he gives the same to them.

Beside him, Kindaichi stirs, moving to sit up with a yawn. He blinks over at Akira, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I can take next watch, Kunimi-kun,” he offers. “You should try to sleep.”

Akira purses his lips, shaking his head slightly. “Won’t do any good.”

“You should at least _try_ ,” Kindaichi insists. He sits up more fully, rolling his neck to get rid of the kinks. “Come on, I promise I’ll wake you if anything happens.” He pushes his jacket toward Akira, as though Akira couldn’t just use his own.

Sighing and knowing his best friend won’t give up on it until he’s shut his eyes for an hour or so, Akira moves to lay down, pillowing his head on his arm on top of the jacket. It smells coppery, like blood and dried sweat, but he’s used to that smell by now and it’s long since bothered him. He keeps his fist tightly clasped around the handle of his blade, until Kindaichi reaches forward and pries it from his grip.

Akira frowns up at him, but Kindaichi shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’ve got this,” he says reassuringly, patting Akira’s shoulder. “You sleep.”

Akira tries to fight back the anxiety twisting in his chest, tightening around his lungs, but he can’t. He can’t relax. It’s all well and good that Kindaichi seems to be functioning well. He hasn’t seen the same things Akira has; he’s made sure of it.

It’s another reason why Akira has trouble sleeping. Whenever he closes his eyes, he sees the face of that man, bleeding from a bite in his leg, hands reaching as he begged for Akira and Kindaichi to kill him. Kindaichi had been frantic, telling Akira they needed to get him away before more zombies came and finished him off, but Akira could see that the light had already gone out of the man’s eyes.

So he told Kindaichi to look away and slid the blade of his knife into the side of the man’s head.

His fingers twitch, tapping against the floor of the gas station. Akira had never killed anyone before that moment. He’d never had to nor had he the desire to. But things were different now. Although he’s only nineteen, he doesn’t get the luxury of being a kid anymore. But he’ll be damned if he lets this wretched world take Kindaichi’s innocence from him.

A warm hand, larger than his own, calloused from years of sports and now fighting, covers his tapping fingers. He opens his eyes, staring at it.

“D-Do you want me to sing to you?” Kindaichi asks, voice hesitant.

It’s only happened once before. Back when Akira and Kindaichi were still with Kyoutani and Yahaba at their first shelter, Akira had woken from a nightmare in cold sweat. Kindaichi was sleeping beside him on his cot and woke up somehow. Akira’s still not sure what alerted him to his distress, but he sat up and placed a hand on Akira’s back, rubbing in slow circles. And while Akira buried his face in his hands, ashamed of his tears, Kindaichi rested his head against Akira’s and sleepily sang a lullaby.

It was so stupid. Just a child’s lullaby sung so softly half the words were lost to whispers. But it calmed Akira’s racing heart until he was able to relax and return to sleep.

He still isn’t sure if he’s ever made up for that moment, but he doesn’t bring it up and neither does Kindaichi. Thinking about it always brings a spot of warmth to Akira’s chest, though, and he’s pretty sure he realized that night how much Kindaichi truly meant to him. Their years of playing on the same volleyball team, of doing homework together, of lounging around watching movies and playing video games on Sundays and Mondays seemed to all crash down on him in one moment, and Akira knew then that no matter what he had to keep Kindaichi alive, preferably safe as well.

It’s what’s kept him going this whole time. The knowledge that if he were to die, to disappear, to succumb to the darkness creeping through his skull, Kindaichi would be left alone with no one to protect him.

Kindaichi’s a capable fighter to be sure. But Akira doesn’t want him to end up like him. To end up like all those fighting for survival by the skin of their teeth, doing whatever it takes to stay alive, relinquishing their humanity.

Humanity is a rare and precious thing these days, and it’s something Kindaichi still has untainted and unbroken. Akira needs to make sure he stays that way.

“Sure,” he sighs, closing his eyes again.

Quietly, Kindaichi begins to hum, stroking his thumb across the back of Akira’s hand. When he starts to sing, his voice is soft, gentle, moving over Akira like a stream trickling over rocks in a peaceful glen. He can’t help but smile faintly. It’s another lullaby. Childish but endearing, and Kindaichi’s voice carries it well.

_He’s a good singer,_ Akira thinks, before his thoughts scatter and drift away from him, and he falls into sleep.

 

Walking as a means of transportation is difficult and boring. Akira hates it. He generally hates most forms of physical activity, but walking is the worst. He drags his feet, biting back complaints about blisters and cramps, as Kindaichi eagerly looks into each store window they pass, looking for anything they can add to their packs.

“Kindaichi, most of these stores have already been raided. You’re not going to find anything good,” Akira says around a sigh after Kindaichi informs him that there’s nothing in this next store worth grabbing either.

“You never know. There could be something they miss,” Kindaichi says, shrugging.

Akira finds himself irritated by Kindaichi’s optimism. He blames it on the fact that he’s tired and hungry, and he knows that they have to ration their food so he can’t eat anything yet.

“We need to focus on finding another shelter. Yahaba-san and Kyoutani-san probably went to one and are waiting for us,” Akira says. “We lose time whenever you duck into these stores. There’s no point so let’s just keep moving.”

Kindaichi pokes his shoulder. “You’re cranky today. Are you okay?”

Akira purses his lips, resisting the urge to snap. Of course he’s not okay. What kind of idiotic question—

Kindaichi stops suddenly, holding his arm out to stop Akira’s movement as well. He stands stiffly, every sense alert, and Akira pauses, tilting his head and listening. There’s footsteps approaching, more than one person, and it’s not the slow shuffle of the undead. They’re quick, purposeful, and getting closer. Cursing under his breath, Akira grabs Kindaichi’s sleeve and pulls him into the nearest alleyway, pressing his back against the wall. Kindaichi stands beside him, his breaths escaping in quick, hard breaths.

Akira gestures for him to stay quiet, before peering around the corner of the building. A group of six people make their way down the streets. A couple of them have guns, but most are carrying random weapons. There’s four men and two women, all older than Akira and Kindaichi. Sucking in a breath, Akira pulls back, resting his head against the wall and doing his best to calm his rapidly beating heart.

“Can we take them?” Kindaichi murmurs in his ear.

Akira shivers despite the dire situation. He shakes his head. “Too many. They have guns,” he murmurs. “We’ll have to go a different way.” He gestures toward the other end of the alley.

Kindaichi nods, starting off as quietly as possible. Akira follows; glancing over his shoulder frequently to ensure the group hasn’t caught sight of them. He’s in the middle of doing this when he runs into Kindaichi’s back. He stumbles, frowning as he looks up at his friend.

“What are you—” He cuts off, turning his gaze to where Kindaichi’s is fixed. There are a dozen or so zombies shuffling around the street they just turned into, ambling around listlessly. He doesn’t think they’ve sensed them yet, so he grabs Kindaichi’s hand, doing his best not to panic as he turns and pulls Kindaichi back into the alley.

“What are we going to do?” Kindaichi whispers frantically. “There’s people on one end and zombies on the other!”

“Let me think,” Akira hisses, rubbing at his forehead. He isn’t sure he and Kindaichi can take on that many zombies without help, but he doesn’t trust the group with guns either. He supposes the lesser of two evils would be to encounter the group, since at least they might take pity on a couple of lost kids and not kill them on sight.

Grimacing, he gives Kindaichi’s hand a squeeze and pulls him back down the alley toward the first street. They step out almost directly in front of the group and both parties leap back in surprise, weapons brandished.

“Wait, don’t!” Kindaichi exclaims, releasing Akira’s hand to hold both his up in a placating gesture. Thankfully his shovel is tucked away in his pack so aside from his height he looks non-threatening, eyes wide, lips parted.

_Good, keep looking cute and perhaps they won’t kill us_ , Akira thinks approvingly. He knows he probably couldn’t pass for looking that innocent and adorable. His default expression is one of boredom and disdain, which isn’t cute at all. He’s not sure he knows how to smile anymore either.

“Who are you?” one of the men asks, gesturing for his companions to lower their weapons.

“I-I’m Kindaichi Yuutarou,” Kindaichi says. “This is my friend, Kunimi. We don’t mean any trouble, there’s just zombies on the next street so we came this way!”

It’s not a lie, nor the entire truth. Akira nods, glad Kindaichi’s thinking so well on his feet. Now is really not the time for him to freeze up with anxiety, though he notices the beads of sweat gathering on Kindaichi’s forehead near his temple.

“Nozaki Hiro,” the man introduces, nodding. He gestures behind him. “This is my squad.”

“Um, hello squad,” Kindaichi says with a small wave.

Akira can see the Nozaki’s gaze softening. “You want us to help you clear that street? We were heading that way anyway. The next shelter is on Block 16 and that’s a shortcut.”

Kindaichi nods eagerly. “Yes, please! Thank you so much!”

He bows, and Akira follows suit, though more slowly. He can see the way the others in the group are eying his pack. Aside from Nozaki there’s a man with bushy eyebrows carrying a rifle similar to Nozaki’s, there’s a slender man with long hair carrying a metal baseball bat, and an older man with the beginnings of a beard carrying a two-by-four studded with nails. The women seem to be sisters, as they look alike, long hair tied up in tails near the top of their head. One has a skateboard slung under her arm, and the other is carrying a large kitchen knife.

Nozaki chuckles, turning to look at those standing behind him. “What do you say? Shall we have some fun?”

They grin at him, and it’s somewhat unsettling. Akira shifts closer to Kindaichi.

“Stay close to me,” he mutters.

Kindaichi looks down at him, eyes wide, and then nods. He brushes his fingertips across Akira’s briefly, sending goosebumps up his arm, and as the group enters the alley, Akira braces himself, pulling his rebar out of his pack. Kindaichi retrieves his shovel, his expression falling into one of grim determination despite the paleness of his features.

Akira gets the briefest urge to kiss him, just once, before the fight can start, but he doesn’t. Instead he squeezes his hands tightly around the rebar until his palms ache.

With the eight of them, dispatching the dozen zombies is fairly easy. At least, it starts out that way. The noise and sickening scent of decaying blood draws out more from other alleyways and storefronts. Akira keeps his back to Kindaichi’s, pressing against him in the lulls to reassure himself of his presence, before leaping forward to jam his rebar into the head of an incoming zombie.

He can hear Kindaichi’s grunts, war cries from the others. He thinks so much noise will only bring in more, thinks they should be quiet or risk being overrun, but he grits his teeth and keeps swinging, knowing that if he shouts for them to shut up he’ll only be adding to the din.

The group fights impressively, working in pairs they match a rhythm born of practice and experience, much like him and Kindaichi. After so many months of fighting alongside his friend, after years of playing sports with him, he’s practically memorized Kindaichi’s movements, the way his feet leave the pavement, the way his arms swing through the air as his shovel lifts and falls, the sound of his gulps for air, and the soft curses when he misses or stumbles.

Akira is fairly certain he could do anything in rhythm with Kindaichi; he’s grown that in-tune to his friend’s habits. It comes in handy now, as he ducks beneath Kindaichi’s arm to deliver a low attack as Kindaichi goes for a high one. He spins around, stabbing another zombie through the stomach to slow it down, so Kindaichi can lop off its head.

“Behind!” Akira shouts, as he straightens, and Kindaichi turns in time to knock the approaching zombie back long enough for Akira to leap in front of him and thrust his rebar into its head. He jerks it out, realizing as it hits the ground with a soft _thud_ that the noise around them has faded.

Breathing hard, he pauses, glancing down the street. No more zombies come stumbling out of the shadows, and the rest of the group halts, realizing that their job is complete. They begin to congratulate each other with loud cheers, as though they’ve just won a volleyball match or something.

Akira looks down at his hands, black with zombie blood. They tremble slightly, but he stoops to wipe the rebar on the cleanest piece of zombie clothing he can find before putting it away.

Kindaichi pants beside him, and he grins when Akira straightens and catches his gaze.

“You were really amazing, Kunimi-kun,” he says appreciatively.

Akira’s face burns, but before he can make a reply, Nozaki and the others approach.

“Now that we’ve solved your little zombie problem, I think it’s time for you to thank us,” he says, and his smile twists into something nasty.

Akira’s heart beats faster, and he takes a step back, grabbing at Kindaichi’s sleeve. “Thank you,” he says, tugging Kindaichi as he continues to walk backwards. “We’ll be going now.”

“But I thought we were going to go to the shelter with them?” Kindaichi says, glancing between Akira and Nozaki, oblivious to what’s truly happening.

“Yes, Kunimi-kun, come to the shelter with us,” Nozaki says, spreading his arms to the side. “You’ll be safe there, and I promise my squad and I will treat you well.”

His eyes rove over the two of them, lingering on certain areas that cause Akira to shiver with disgust. He shakes his head firmly, taking a step in front of Kindaichi in an attempt to shield him from the lecherous gaze.

“We’re actually on our way to meet up with our own squad,” he says flatly. “They’re at a different shelter. Thank you for the invitation, but we really need to go now.”

“Kunimi-kun?” Kindaichi’s voice is tentative, as though he’s picked up on the tension now, but he’s still confused by it.

“We’re _going_ now,” Akira repeats pointedly, giving Kindaichi a frown over his shoulder.

Kindaichi purses his lips but nods, trusting him. He turns to go, and Akira begins to follow him when he feels a hand on his arm, clutching tightly.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Nozaki says, all pretense gone as he sneers down at Akira. “You’re not going anywhere until you repay us for helping you.”

“Fuck off!” Akira growls, giving the man a swift kick to the shin. The man’s grasp loosens as he grunts in pain, hopping back a step. Akira uses the opportunity to shove against Kindaichi’s back, urging him forward. “Go!”

Kindaichi breaks into a run, Akira at his heels. He hears a shout, a gunshot, and something hot scrapes past his shoulder. He stumbles, gasping in pain as his shoulder begins to throb. He clutches at it, feels sticky warm liquid spill over his fingers. Blinking back tears, he continues to run.

“Kunimi-kun!” Kindaichi’s voice breaks through the pounding in his skull, over the angry shouts behind them. He shakes his head, waving his hand in front of him.

“It just grazed me, go! Keep going!”

Nozaki and the squad eventually give up their chase, apparently deciding the two boys aren’t worth it after all. Kindaichi ducks into an abandoned and mostly empty pharmacy, not stopping to rest but immediately digging through the shelves in search for something.

Akira watches him blearily, sagging against the front counter. Blood drips from between his fingers to land on the hard, smooth surface. He’s head feels too heavy for his neck, and his knees feel weak. He sinks to the floor, almost knocking his forehead against the edge of the counter.

The last thing he sees before his vision grows dark is Kindaichi rushing toward him, eyes wide with fear. He hears his name as though from far away, a desperate “Kunimi-kun!” before blackness settles in, and he no longer senses anything.

He’s not sure how much time goes by between then and when he comes to, but he immediately wishes he hadn’t. White-hot pain flares across his shoulder, and he cries out, reaching for it. A hand grabs his wrist, pulling it away easily despite Akira’s struggles.

“Don’t, Kunimi-kun! You’ll tear the stitches.”

_Stitches?_ Akira didn’t know Kindaichi could even thread a needle much less stitch anything. And how did he get supplies to do that? His brain feels like mush, so he doesn’t try to rationalize it. He feels cool liquid at his lips and parts them, eagerly drinking the water despite the rusty taste. He cracks open his eyes, seeing Kindaichi’s worried face hovering about him.

“Where-where are—”

Warm fingers press against his lips, silencing him. “Shh, Kunimi-kun, you need to rest so you can get better. You-you have to get better. I-I don’t . . . you can’t die on me, okay? You can’t die.”

_Dumbass, it’s just a flesh wound, I’m not going to die . . ._ But he closes his eyes again, falling once more into an exhausted sleep.

A few days pass in this way, with Akira waking in pain, disoriented, scrambling. And Kindaichi is always right there next to him, grabbing his hand, smoothing back his hair, telling him that he’s going to be okay.

At one point Akira thinks he feels Kindaichi’s lips on his ear, murmuring something that sounds like “I love you.” But the haze is thick over his mind, and he isn’t sure if he’s fully awake or still dreaming.

Finally the day comes when he wakes to nothing but a dull ache in his shoulder. Sitting up slowly, he rubs at his eyes, taking stock of his current situation. Kindaichi is asleep beside him, on his stomach with his head nestled on his arms. His fingers are loosely curled around Akira’s switchblade, so Akira carefully extracts it, sliding it into his pocket.

They’re still in the pharmacy they ducked in, though several shelves are now stacked up against the front windows and doors. Akira wonders if Kindaichi moved them himself or if someone had come to help them. Glancing around, he can’t see anything to indicate that someone new has joined them. There’s a stack of canned food and bottled water a few feet away, beside it a pile of their things from their packs.

Turning back to Kindaichi, Akira contemplates waking him, but he looks so peaceful and sweet, even with his mouth open and drool leaking onto his arm. Instead, he stands (a little shakily) and finds his way to the bathroom to take a piss. When he comes back, he grabs one of the cans, tearing it open and spilling the cold soup into his mouth. It’s not exactly tasty, but he’s so hungry it doesn’t really matter.

He’s just finishing it when Kindaichi jolts awake, hand reaching to the side where Akira was lying before as if on instinct. He blinks in surprise when his hand comes in contact with nothing, but before he can panic, Akira sets down the can and scoots closer to him.

“Hey,” he says, not sure what else to. His ears burn as he remembers the feel of Kindaichi’s lips against him, though he’s still not completely sure if that was a dream or not.

“Kunimi-kun! You’re awake!” Kindaichi almost knocks him over with his hug, and Akira grimaces as the pain in his shoulder flares, but he lifts his good arm to wrap it around Kindaichi’s back, gripping the material of his shirt tightly.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he murmurs, the heat from his ears traveling to his face.

“I was so afraid you were going to die,” Kindaichi admits with a huff, sitting back but keeping his hands on Akira’s arms. “I tried to remember how Kyoutani-san patched up our clothes when I fixed your shoulder, but I think the needle or the thread was dirty because it got infected.”

“But you treated it well, I guess. Since I’m not dead,” Akira points out, glancing at his shoulder. He rolls up his sleeve to inspect the bandaging, guessing it’s a good thing they ended up at a pharmacy of all places. They’re apparently lucky the last people who raided this place left some supplies behind as well.

The bandage on his shoulder looks clean, and when he peeks under it he sees that, while swollen, the wound isn’t festering like it probably had been before.

“I’m really glad you aren’t,” Kindaichi says quietly. “I-I don’t think I could do this without you.”

Akira glances up at his face. Kindaichi’s biting his lip, eyes turned down to where his hand still grips Akira’s good arm. Slowly, he strokes his thumb against the smooth skin of Akira’s inner elbow, causing goosebumps to appear along it. Swallowing hard, Akira studies Kindaichi, the way his shoulders are hunched, the bags beneath his eyes, the rawness of his lower lip, no doubt chewed to that state.

Leaning forward, Akira presses his own lips against Kindaichi’s cheek. The movement seems to startle him, because he jerks back, his hand releasing Akira’s arm, as his eyes widen.

“I’m not going to die,” Akira says firmly, knowing he can’t. He has a job to do. He has to get Kindaichi to safety, to Kyoutani and Yahaba. Then if he has to die, he can die knowing Kindaichi will be okay. 

Kindaichi touches his cheek, almost reverently it seems. Akira turns away, reaching for his bag.

“We should get moving. We’re not going to Block 16, so we’ll have to find another—”

“I love you!”

Akira freezes, hand outstretched. He can feel his heart beating faster, and when he turns back around, Kindaichi’s face is flushed but his eyes are focused, determined. Swallowing hard, Akira sits back on his heels, guessing he hadn’t been dreaming before.

“What?”

Kindaichi inhales sharply, running his hand through his hair. “When you were sick there was one day when you were shivering so hard, and you were in so much pain, and I was really scared I was going to lose you. I-I told you that you had to get better so I could tell you that I-I loved you. So, um, I guess I’m telling you now that you’re better.”

Akira blinks at him, realizing after a moment that he should say something when Kindaichi begins to retreat into himself, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

“You don’t have to say it back! I know we’re just best friends, and you probably don’t feel the same, but—”

“I love you too,” Akira blurts out with much less poise than he meant to. Grimacing, he moves closer to Kindaichi, reaching up to place his hands on either side of his friend’s head. Kindaichi watches him with wide eyes, startled into silence.

“I love you too,” Akira says again, much calmer and more direct the second time. Without waiting for a response, he leans forward and presses his lips against Kindaichi’s. They’re rough, chapped, but his aren’t much better. Kindaichi inhales sharply against his lips, but then he presses back eagerly, one hand resting against his arm once more, the other finding its way to Akira’s neck, holding it gently as he strokes his thumb along Akira’s jawline.

It’s not a bad kiss, as far as first kisses go. Their teeth only clack once when Akira tries to get a better angle, and Kindaichi’s forehead knocks against his when he tries to move closer. Adjusting his position, Akira ends up straddling Kindaichi’s lap, and he settles down in it, wrapping his arms around Kindaichi’s neck as he deepens the kiss.

Very gently, he rocks forward, pressing down against Kindaichi. He’s rewarded with a tiny gasp, Kindaichi’s lips parting. Quickly, Akira bites down on his lower one, pulling on it until Kindaichi’s mouth opens wider, and he can slip his tongue inside. At the contact he can’t help but moan softly, a shiver running through him.

His veins feel hot, like he still has a fever, and his heart is pounding against his ribcage like he’s been running from zombies for the past hour instead of sleeping. Kindaichi’s arms wrap around his waist, holding him close against his chest. Akira rolls his hips again, starting to feel a hardening bulge between his legs. Kindaichi’s groan is muffled in their kiss, and his fingers curl into the material of Akira’s shirt.

Leaning back, Akira grabs the back of his shirt, attempting to pull it off with one hand, seeing as it hurts to lift his other arm. It’s difficult and after struggling a bit, he sits back on Kindaichi’s knees with a huff.

“Can you help me, please?” he asks.

“Oh, um, are you sure we should be doing this?” Kindaichi asks hesitantly, even as he moves his hand to the bare skin of Akira’s back right above his waistband. He trails calloused fingertips across it, and Akira suppresses a shudder.

“Would you rather wait until we meet up with Kyoutani and Yahaba and have to share a room with them again?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Kindaichi laughs. “Good point,” he admits, even as his cheeks glow pink. He moves his hands then, helping Akira out of his shirt, being careful with the wound. After it’s set aside, Akira tugs on Kindaichi’s shirt, lifting it off him as well.

He takes a moment to run his fingers over Kindaichi’s chest. He’s thin, he’s always been thin, a lanky sprout with little visible muscle. But with food so scarce these days, Akira can see the faint outline of Kindaichi’s ribs pressing against his chest. He frowns faintly, tracing over them as Kindaichi’s skin quivers in response to his touch.

“You should eat more,” Akira mutters.

“But we’ll run out of food faster,” Kindaichi points out, rubbing his hands up and down Akira’s back slowly.

“You can have some of my portion.”

Kindaichi shakes his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

Akira huffs, turning his gaze to Kindaichi’s face. “I’m not going to let you starve.”

“Well, I’m not going to let _you_ starve either!”

They sit there a moment, frowning at each other. Kindaichi moves one hand to cradle Akira’s face. Warmth spreads through him at the contact, and he can’t help but lean into it, as Kindaichi strokes his thumb across Akira’s cheekbone.

“I know you want to take care of me, Kunimi-kun, but you have to look out for yourself too, okay? Don’t sacrifice your health for me. Promise me you won’t.”

Akira’s chest tightens. “Kindaichi . . .”

“ _Promise_ _me_. You have to stay healthy and alive. You _have_ to.” Kindaichi looks into his face so earnestly, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, and Akira can’t help but nod.

“Okay. I promise.”

Kindaichi looks relieved, and he sighs, smiling faintly, before leaning forward to kiss him again. This one is better than the last, as their lips slide together more easily, falling into a comfortable rhythm. Akira tries to ignore the niggling doubt that lingers on the edges of his mind, the doubt telling him that he shouldn’t make promises he can’t keep. But he’s not going to break this moment. He’s not going to upset Kindaichi further. He refuses to.

So he pushes closer, feeling the heat of Kindaichi’s chest against his own and shivering. As he licks at Kindaichi’s mouth, seeking entrance, he begins to rock his hips once more, half-hard already at the way Kindaichi’s grip tightens around him, and he moans around Akira’s tongue.

They break apart to breathe, panting softly with foreheads pressed together, breath mingling hotly between them. With half-lidded eyes, Akira watches his own hand move down, fingers unfastening Kindaichi’s jeans with only a slight tremor. Kindaichi turns his head, kissing and nipping at the side of Akira’s neck just below his ear, as he gets the jeans open and slides his hand inside.

“Ahh, K-Kunimi-kun,” Kindaichi gasps, as Akira drags his fingers over the damp bulge of Kindaichi’s underwear. His hands grip Akira’s back tightly, sure to leave bruises later, but Akira doesn’t mind.

He licks his lips briefly, rubbing his palm against the bulge, as he turns his face to kiss the side of Kindaichi’s face. “Call me Akira,” he murmurs softly, applying more pressure to increase the friction.

“A-A—kira” Kindaichi stutters over the name, burying his face deeper into Akira’s neck as he groans.

Akira takes a nip at Kindaichi’s ear, pulling the lobe into his mouth to suck on it lightly, as he squirms in Kindaichi’s lap. His pants are growing more uncomfortable, and he can feel himself straining against the material. Kindaichi seems to understand his unspoken request, and he moves one hand around to unfasten Akira’s own jeans. As Kindaichi reaches into his underwear to pull him out, Akira shudders at the contact, gasping at the feel of Kindaichi’s palm sliding across his hot skin.

He quickly moves to draw Kindaichi out of his underwear as well, moving his hips closer as best he can until he’s able to wrap his hand around both of their members. He grimaces, as heat spreads through him, fire pooling in his abdomen. It feels good, it feels so good to have Kindaichi against him, that for a moment he simply sits there, trembling, hand wrapped around them both.

Kindaichi’s hands are larger though; so Akira moves his palm down to cover his.

“I-I want you to do it,” he pants softly, nuzzling his nose into the hair behind Kindaichi’s ear.

Kindaichi’s breath hitches, but he nods briefly, moving to wrap his fingers around both shafts. Slowly he begins to stroke, up and down, inhaling a deep, shuddering breath as he does. He exhales around a moan, and Akira can’t help but follow suit. His head falls back, and he moves his other hand to Kindaichi’s shoulder, gripping it tightly despite the pain flaring in his shoulder at the movement. Rolling his hips forward into Kindaichi’s hand, he grimaces as pleasure spikes through every vein in his body.

Kindaichi’s breathing hard, hand jerking rhythmically. He runs his thumb over their tips, mixing their pre-cum together, and Akira bites his lip hard, squeezing his eyes shut as another moan escapes. Kindaichi’s lips find purchase on his neck, peppering it with tiny kisses. Akira moves his hand to Kindaichi’s hair, twisting into the strands. He rocks his hips more, matching the pulls of Kindaichi’s hand around them, increasing the friction, as he slides easily against Kindaichi’s dripping length, held in place by Kindaichi’s palm.

He can feel the heat surging, building toward a climax. He grits his teeth, tugging Kindaichi’s hair to cause him to lift his head. He meets Akira’s gaze with a look glazed over with pleasure and lust. He looks good like that, Akira thinks, and he leans forward to kiss him aggressively, his hips beginning to jerk out of sync with Kindaichi’s hand, as he groans into the kiss and comes.

White-hot sparks seem to flash behind his eyes, and he swallows up Kindaichi’s own moan with his kiss, as he feels Kindaichi’s hand begin to slow its movements, his body twitching in aftershocks against Akira’s.

Slowly, he draws back, gasping for breath. Smoothing Kindaichi’s hair back, he can’t help the faint grin that tilts his lips.

“A-Akira . . .” Kindaichi murmurs, opening his eyes and grinning back somewhat shakily. “We . . . we really did that.”

Akira can’t help but laugh. He reaches over with his good arm to grab a rag from their pile of supplies. Gently, he picks up Kindaichi’s hand and cleans it off, carefully doing the same to their members before tucking them away.

“Yeah, we really did,” he admits with a nod.

He can feel exhaustion creeping through his body, and he sags heavily against Kindaichi’s chest with a soft sigh. Kindaichi’s arm moves around him, holding him close and stroking up and down his spine lightly.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?” he asks quietly.

After Akira nods, Kindaichi moves to lie down, not releasing his hold on him so he ends up lying on top of Kindaichi. Kindaichi doesn’t seem to mind though, and he continues to run his fingertips along his back in soothing circles. Akira closes his eyes, tucking his head beneath Kindaichi’s chin. As he breathes out slowly, trying to calm his still rapidly beating heart, he feels rather than hears Kindaichi begin to sing softly, that same old lullaby.

For the first time in a long time, he feels completely safe, and he falls asleep easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


End file.
